


Watch Your Back

by Desdimonda



Category: StarCraft
Genre: M/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 21:25:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5759401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/pseuds/Desdimonda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alarak watches Artanis mid battle and wants to get his way. Spoiler. He does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watch Your Back

The splay of black blood fanned out in the air from the hiss of Artanis’s blade, hot, biting into the Hydralisk’s carapace, splitting it in two.

Alarak watched as he spun around, catching not one, two, but three Zerglings that had charged at the both, slicing their heads clean off with Zeratul’s blade. 

The Heirarch paused, withdrawing his blades and kicking aside the dead bodies at his feet, making room for more that would soon follow.

And still, Alarak watched.

He heard something rustle behind him and with an agitated hiss, he turned around and cut off a Zergling’s head with his ruby blade, the cloth of his robes billowing about his feet as he moved. He heard the hiss of Artanis’s blades extend once again, and Alarak turned.

And he watched.

Artanis dodged the swipe of a Hydralisk and the bite of Zergling as they came at the Heirarch. With a step back, he charged his psionics and rushed through both of the creatures, carving his blades through their carapaces as he glided across the ground at speed and back again, the air singing with his energy. 

The Highlord curled his fingers as he felt Artanis’s power ripple in the air, and he began to walk, slowly, around the edge of the battlefield, waiting, watching, observing the Heirarch as he fought, a low growl trembling through his psionics.

“A little help, Highlord?” said Artanis as he slid to a halt, his blades poised by his hips.

Alarak smirked, the wave of his energy washing over his skin. He took a long, steadying breath; it was almost as exhilarating as Terrazine. Almost.

“It seems like my help is barely needed, Heirach,” said Alarak with a small laugh. “Watch your back.”

Artanis hissed at his companion before he turned around and faced another wave of Zerg. He charged with more force this time, knocking them back several feet. As they regained their footing and began their assault once more, Artanis quickly cut off their heads, their hiss of blood filling the air with it’s sweet song. 

His breath was shallow and quick, and his psionics pulsed all around him, sparking off the ends of his severed cords as he cast an electric blast at the remaining Zerg. It’s cry of pain was short and it fell to the ground, curling within itself as it died. 

Artanis stood, trying to take a moment to catch his breath but Alarak did not let him.

The Highlord sank his claws into Artanis’s shoulders and pushed him against a nearby, broken pillar, the clang of his armour against stone sang through the air. In a breath, Alarak pressed his crest against Artanis’s, sliding his armoured hand across his blood stained face, desperate, wanting, pushing off the armour that covered his crest. It fell to their feet with a thud.

Artanis tried to protest - tried to push the Heirarch off, tried to whisper meagre words of denial, but as Alarak pressed a knee between his legs and dragged his claws around his neck, pulling on his cords, every word, every protest fell away.

“You didn’t watch your back,” said Artanis as he tore off the piece of cloth Artanis hung between his legs. It was so arbitrary. With a click and a hiss, Alarak’s armoured belt dropped to the floor. The need of his slick arousal was evident as it pressed against his leg. Artanis’s hearts pounded. Blue eyes met red, clawed hands unable to be still as they gripped 

“For what?” said Artanis, his words barely a breath as Alarak hoisted a leg around his waist. They were in a war zone. Bloodied, bruised, surrounded by fell Zerg and more that could strike at any time.

And by the gods, he did not want to stop.

“Me,” whispered Alarak as he gripped Artanis’s hip with one clawed hand and his neck with the other and sank his arousal deep inside; Artanis’s wet slit welcomed him easily. Alarak laughed against Artanis’s cheek as he slid inside, the claws that hooked his neck, crawling around to his cords. “Seems you were more than ready for me,” he said, pressing their crests together firmly as he began to thrust, hard.

Artanis felt his crest flush bright red as Alarak spoke, but he could not deny his words. He arched his back into each thrust, eager, willing, asking for more, and more. He’d had no chance to catch his breath from battle, and he rasped against his lover, his head light from pleasure, from the quick, rapid breaths that they shared as the Highlord pounded against his lover, rhythmic, hard, threatening to shatter the pillar at his back.

Claws tugged at Alarak’s cords; red eyes glanced at Artanis’s crest. Already it shimmered pink. He smirked, pulled back the Heirarch’s head by his cords, his clawed fingers nipping the raw edges, feeling, coaxing out the power that simmered beneath. A spark, two, several blue singes of power flickered off the edges of his cords and into Alarak’s hand as he thrust. Alarak pulled harded. He thrust, harder. 

The air was still filled with the sound of battle. Beyond their sight, they could hear their friends, their comrades and allies in fight against the Zerg, and they were drawing nearer. But they had time. They thought.

Alarak let his psionics meld with Artanis’s, at last. He always made the Heirarch wait. Always. The sparks of blue sought the ripple of power that the Highlord let wash over his lover’s skin. It made Artanis moan; it made him cry out into the air, unashamed. Alarak’s name was a melody, a song, as the Heirarch uttered it, breaking with his pleasure, with each thrust that came harder, wilder, making his back collide against the pillar as the air escape his skin.

“Say my name,” growled Alarak as he pulled on Artanis’s cords, jolting back his head. His crest shimmered bright pink; he was almost at his peak. “Say it. Say it.”

“Alarak, Alarak,” said Artanis, at first in a whisper, then his words grew to a loud, strangled moan as he reached his peak. He repeated it. Over and over, his claws finding their home within his lover’s skin as he felt himself climax all over his and Alarak stomach, closing his eyes, as he savoured each breath, each motion, each second of the electric sensation.

As the Highlord heard his name uttered in ecstacy and watched his lover climax, feeling his hot essence cover their skin, he spent himself inside Artanis with one last, long, languid thrust, pressing the Heirarch against the pillar, his claws holding him in place. He tilted down his head, touching their pink, shimmering crests together, feeling the pleasant weave of their psionics.

“That was…unexpected,” said Artanis, touching Alarak’s face with his hand.

Alarak stared into Artanis’s eyes, unblinking. “There is much about you that is…unexpected.”


End file.
